


The Piano

by sxfaraway



Category: Take That, gary barlow - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 15:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18097190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxfaraway/pseuds/sxfaraway
Summary: Gary’s having a meltdown over his lack in creativity.





	The Piano

_**Tick**_. _Tick_. _Tick_. _Tick_.

 _ **Tick**_. _Tick_. _Tick_. _Tick_.

 

The sound of the metronome was growing obnoxious with each beat it kept, taunting Gary as he sat mindlessly in front of his piano that was more a source of frustration than it was creativity or solace. No more outlet, just a pile of wood, wire, and ivory perched teasingly in his main parlor.

 

 _ **Smack**_.

 

A skilled hand swat at the met, shutting it off swiftly. The eyes that typically shone with a shear determination that went unparalleled was simply dead, vacant. Lost. They were locked on the stilled metronome, hands pressed to his thighs as he searched and pried for some sort of motivation.

 

 _What_ _the_ _fuck’s_ _the_ _point?_

 

Gary’s thoughts all too easily turned south, gut falling to his feet and heart sinking into nothing. The man who was once a British treasure was being forgotten. Few people approached for autographs, typically the scattered old woman. His recent record had been an utter flop. There was nothing remarkable about it and did the critics make it known. It seemed that even his fans had taken to letting him know how poorly his work had become.

 

Maybe the sentimental ballads were too far out of date. Maybe he needed to indulge in something more ostentatious to really grip the attentions of the critics and fans alike. Something heavier? Maybe rock. What was that heavier genre? Metal? Gary Barlow, Metal—No, that would never suit. Rap?

 

_Oh, I’m certain I could—Bust a rhyme? Is that the phrase? Can I really do it if I don’t know what it’s called? Highly unlikely._

 

For the first time in months, the singer’s lips curled into a small smile as he let out the faintest laugh, softly mocking himself for even playing on the thought. The amusement was short lived as he looked down at the piano. For a split moment, he debated destroying it, imagined it vividly.

 

Gary imagine fists slamming ivory, sending keys scattering across his pristine floor. His legs kicked at the piano’s, splintering them as they broke away from the body. With the front legs gone, the image in his mind was the shining, white instrument tumbling forward. Then he was ripping the top off, taking careful time to pull apart the wire and steel hammers that comprised the guts of what was then the corpse of a past love.

 

He shook his head to drive out the imagery, sighing out a sad noise as he rested his forehead against the cool wood, frowning deeply. Disappointment. That’s all that he was feeling—Sheer, unquestionable disappointment. All in himself. How could he have strayed so far from who he was for so long? Now? All he was was nothing.


End file.
